
THE RIVER 

AND OTHER POEMS 



Bv MRS. ELMER BRAMWELL FUNK 




Copyright 1917 

By 

Mrs. Elmer Bramwell Funk 



4^CU4 810 90 

DEC 21 1917 

The Warsaw Union — Printers 



AND OTHER POEMS 



By Mrs. Elmer Bramwell Funk 




* .** 



#\x 



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Dedicated to 
My Husband and Son 



A Pragn* 



Father crown them with Thy blessing, 
As they climb life's rugged way; 
Fill their hearts with Heavenly sunlight, 
Make of night time glorious day. 
Father give them grace sustaining, 
Give them prayer to unlock Thy door, 
Give them power to ever know Thee, 
Give them faith for everinore. 



We drove by the river at evening, 

When the day was ready for rest; 

And the sun with splendor was tinging, 
Great banks of clouds in the West. 

As if he were giving in parting, 

Rich treasures of silver and gold; 

To reflect his own glory at twilight 

As he sank down new worlds to behold. 

The farmer from work was wending 
His way o'er the meadows old. 

The flocks in contentment were waiting 
To be housed for the night in the fold. 

The shadows in the distance were lengthening 

Nature' sounds were submissive and low; 

While calmly we gazed on the river 

As it rippled in freedom below. 

It came from the North through the forests 

Over rocks and fields and sand, 
And glided under huge branches 

Of great oaks that protective stand. 
Trees which the storm twists and wrenches 
As huge sentinels guarding the shore 
Will soon spread o'er the river their leaf -shade 
As it moves on for evermore. 

Some places the shadows seem darker 

And the water more turbulant seems. 
Some turns the bed is more rocky 

As the river glistens and gleams. 
More scattered some places the pearl-shells 
As the ripples enfold the rich hue 
The current some places seems deeper 
As it catches and holds Heaven's blue. 

The river glides on to the ocean 

Never idle or quiet a day; 
But occasionally halts by the road-side 

To freshen the grass on the way. 
The cool North wind takes the daisy 
And presses her cheek to the stream; 
That after the Sun has descended 
She may close her eye-lids to dreams. 

The stream cannot linger for long time, 

It must bear its gems to the sea 
To the great source of its ripple and rhyme 

Where its mission fulfilled will be. 
It will carry as trophies the clean sands, 
The fragrance of flowers on the way; 
The hues of the grass and the willows 
It has cooled and refreshed day by day. 



It will carry in bundles the sun-light, 

And the image of star-faces shown. 
It will carry the silver moon-beams 

That over its bosom were thrown. 
It will ripple with the sweet-toned bird-songs, 
With the humming and buzzing of bees; 
And will roll on with the sound of the rain-storm 
As it makes a grand rush to the sea. 

Each life flows on like a river 

With a beginning as small as its source, 
And with shadows that sometimes are lowering 

And strifes that are spent with great force. 
Some days in life seem gloomy 
Some skies have a leaden hue; 
But our Father who never forgets us 
Brings the gold lining plainly to view. 

Our lives glide on to the great source; 

We should never be idle a day. 
And only pause on our journey 

To lift some burden away. 
The mists will be cleared from our vision, 
If we but bring sun-shine our way; 
And the sweet flowers of hope up-springing, 
With their fragrance our deeds will repay. 

The great stream of life moving onward 

To the exhaustless ocean of love, 
Should bear as its trophies our service, 

To gain for us crowning above. 
A service that's lasting and earnest, 
And as true as the stream in its course 
That never grows weary, but persistent 
As sea-ward it increases its force. 

Life should carry the burdens of others 
Bright sands to cast on the shore; 

And the echoes of musical laughter, 
Never known to some hearts before. 

It should carry as gems to the ocean, 

The tears of joy caught on the way. 

And the fragrance of blossoming flowers 

Refreshed by its waves day by day. 

The river's course will be ended, 

As it moves toward its bed in the sea. 
And sometime life's stream will be blended 

With the ocean that ever will be. 
Which is strewn with the spoils of the conquest, 
And bright with the gems of our tears. 
It will cease to be moved by life's unrest, 
And be calm through Eternity's years. 



Springtime breathes of flowers. — 

Zephyrs of morning 
Carry the fragrance o'er meadow and lea. 
And the roseate light of love's holy dawning 
Casts its faint radiance 

O'er thee love and me. 

Springtime breathes of hope. — 

Joys that are coming 
Throw their bright shadows, and cause doubts to flee. 
And the beautiful thought of hope now returning 
Gilds the dim pathway 

For thee love and me. 

Springtime breathes of music, 

Bird songs and mating. 
Meadows alive with the song of the bee, 
Skies blue and far away, — Winter abating, 
All sound love's cadence 

For thee love and me. 



Bummtt'B (Eomituj 



"Summer's coming" said the crocus, 
With its face turned to the Sun, 

After long, long months of Winter 

When the snow and frost were done. 

"Summer's coming" sang the blue bird, 

Fresh from Southland gay and free, 

As he wooed his little love-mate 

From topmost branch of the old oak tree. 

"Summer's coming" said the brooklet, 
With its ripple, laugh and song, 

And the humming bees and swallows 
Talked about it all day long. 

"Summer's coming" spoke the South wind, 
With its gentle, soft caress, 

And the fleecy cloudlets told it 

From the blue sky's lovliness. 

Yes its coming, now we know it 

As we hear from birds and flowers, 

Told by brooklet and the South wind, 
And the whole sweet Summer's ours. 



3ta a latmj 

Tell me truly little daisy 

With your face turned to the Sun, 
What has been your heart's deep longing 

Since your little life begun ? 

Could you wish to deck the hill-top 

Where the sunbeams glint and gleam, 

Or would you rather blossom 

In contentment by the stream? 

Would you bloom within the garden 
Where the haughty tulips stand, 

In the bed with little crocuses, 
Or beside the lillies grand? 

Would you rather catch the rain drops 

And hold them as they fall, 
Than to treasure tiny dew-drops 

Within thy chalice small? 

Tell me truly little daisy 

As your blush the morning greets, 
Isn't it far more pleasant 

To bloom within the woodland sweet? 

Where the buttercups are golden, 
And the humming-bird's asleep, 

Where the silver moon-beams quiver 
O'er the hill top, down the steep. 

Little flower fulfill your mission 

Every life has this to do. 
Breathe your fragranc on the breezes, 

To return at eve to you. 

Though your home is meek and lowly, 
As you bud, and bloom and dream; 

Though your fragrance seemeth wasted, 
And your blushes oft unseen; 

You have made the woodland brighter 
With your bloom and beauty rare, 

And the zephyrs seem more fragrant 
From your life and sweetness there. 

O, that you could tell sweet daisy 
As you do your deeds of love, 

How you know your short life's mission 
Sent to you by God above. 



Does the Father send a message 

When the daylight wanes and dies, 

Or does he whisper softly 

Through the rainbow in the skies ? 

I will trust Him little floweret 

That my life work He may guide, 

And may keep His watch care o'er me 
That no evil may betide. 

That my life be spent sincerely 
What so e'er may be His will, 

And like Thee may breathe a fragrance 
That all other lives will fill. 




As I sat alone in the twilight 

After soothing the babe to rest, 

My thoughts began to wander 

On the things a mother loves best. 

I thought of the babe sweetly sleeping 
Free from all trouble and care, 

And prayed that through his life struggles 
From the hardest our Father would spare. 

One more little lamb to be guarded, 
Kept from life's dangers and cold. 
And loved, cherished and guarded 
Aright for the Shepherd's fold. 

He sleeps in the sweet hush of evening, 
So peaceful and warm in his nest; 

While the Sun is touched with crimson 
And the winds are lulled to rest. 



May his days be peaceful and shining, 
Always full of hours well spent; 

May life's sun be touched with love's crimson 
And its winds waft him sweetest content. 



Gta iln%r 



Loving friend — In years of childhood 

When on tottering little feet, 
I would seek thee with my troubles 

Find thine arms a safe retreat. 
Dearest friend — In years of girlhood 

When life's pages seemed so fair 
Thou dids't shield and guard and guide me, 

That no evil should ensnare. 

Precious friend — In womanhood 

When life was such earnestness, 
Thou wast near — so true and faithful 

All my after life to bless. 
Gone from earth — Your memory lingers 

Soothes the heart and calms my fears, 
Links my life to thee and Heaven 

Through the passing of the years. 



The bird builds her nest in the tree tops crest, 

Where the winds come out to play. 
And she rears her young as her nest is swung 

From its height in the branches gay. 
The butterfly swoons in a brown silk cocoon, 

When Winter blows bleak and cold, 
But the bright Spring days, and the sun's warm rays, 

Cause her house to unfold. 

The lion finds rest in the deep jungle breat, 

While his kingship is never gainsaid. 
And the young lions play in the rock caverns gray, 

As the storm rides in power o'er head. 
All creatures below have some place to go, 

Through the forest or air they may roam: 
Even man in his haste his substance will waste 

On a place he is wont to call home. 

My heart has a mansion beyond earth's expansion, 

Filled with beauty and luxury rare: 
It is governed by love, 'tis built high above 

Where my plans and my hopes bid fair. 
No tempter can foil, no sorrows can spoil 

The happiness found there complete. 
For treasures untold more than silver and gold 

Will be found in my dream home replete. 

In my heart's mansion beyond earth's expansion, 

Where faith and love live anew, 
There are no broken ties and no leaden skies, 

And my dreams will ever come true. 



Only a child in a factory grim 
From morn until close of day; 

But a pinched little face, 

And a bent little form 
That longs for an hour of play. 

Only a mother bent with toil 
In a tenement cold and bare; 

But a deadly fear, 

And an aching heart 
For the little ones left to her care. 

Only a Dago at work on the street 
Who speaks in the gibberish tongue; 

But a longing look 

At the passer-by, 
For a kindly word from someone. 

Only a Jap with the slanting eyes 
At the curio shop down the street; 

But he yearns for the clasp 

Of a friendly hand, 
And a kindly word to greet. 

Christ as a child saw the needs of a world; 
As a man He knew hunger too 

And He walked a stranger 

On many a street 
A Savior for me and you. 

Stricken with lonliness and despair; 
He yearned for a world in its loss; 

And He felt the jeers 

Of the thoughtless ones 
On the wearisome road to the cross. 

He gave His life for the lone and oppressed, 
For a world in it's sin and it's wrong. 

For the numberless hordes 

In alley and street; 
The forgotten among the throng. 



My symphony — What shall it be? 
To live my life more worthily. 
Each thought be pure and lofty, 
Each word must strive not to offend, 
Or wound the heart strings of a friend. 
My song must carry hope and cheer, 
My life must scatter sunshine here. 
The hours, the rosary of the day, 
Must leave me no regrets to pay; 
But counted one by one in prayer 
Each set with sixty jewels rare. 
Each second counts a precious gem 
To beautify Life's diadem. 
From seasons of my life must spring 
The flowers or fruitage each should bring. 
'Till seasons, days and hours appear; 
Fulfillment of the golden year. 



i iRRARY OF CONGRESS 

ipumnnni 

015 907 392 * 



